


Two Polecats, a Fomorian, and a Banshee Walk Into a Diner

by Fool of a Book Wyrm (Lafeli85)



Series: Exchanges & Gifts [12]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dark Creatures, Fic with a Pic, Fluff, Gift Fic, Happy Birthday Caity!, M/M, POV Simon Snow, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Road Trips, Slice of Life, Waffle House, because that's a tag we all deserve, simpard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeli85/pseuds/Fool%20of%20a%20Book%20Wyrm
Summary: “Are you going to tell us why you dragged us on another forsaken roadtrip across this accursed wasteland?” Baz asks Shepard. “And why you insisted we stop at this specific atrocity of a waffle house in the middle of the night?”Shep pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket, flattening it out before he slaps it on the table.“THISis why,” he proclaims, pushing it towards Baz.Have you been unfairly stereotyped as a “Dark” creature?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Exchanges & Gifts [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077686
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	Two Polecats, a Fomorian, and a Banshee Walk Into a Diner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caitybug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Caity!!!!
> 
> You are an absolutely incredible friend, always making sure to put others first. I knew that I had to do something special for your birthday, so I hope you enjoy this little bit of Shep content.
> 
> I wasn't sure what to do at first, so of course I had to ask Alice and Kris. [Kris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix) said _Waffle House!_ and [Alice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceLiddle/pseuds/AliceLiddle) said _Shep finding a creature support group!_.... so here we are! 
> 
> Let us all take an extra moment to love and appreciate the art that Kris provided as part 2 of this collab gift. 💜 
> 
> Extra thanks to both Kris and Alice for beta reading this for me. I adore you both so much!

Simon

“ _This,_ ” Baz says, poking questioningly at the golden scone sitting before him, “is _not_ a biscuit.” 

“He told you it wasn’t a biscuit,” I tell Baz around a forkful of waffle. 

“What oaf decided to call this a biscuit then?” he asks, offended on behalf of baked goods everywhere. 

“Stop insulting it and just try it. You’ll like it!” Shep tells him. 

I don’t care what any of this food is called, it’s all delicious. Giant golden waffles, bacon, eggs over easy, giant slices of toast (apparently anything that is labeled “Texas” means it’s twice as big as is reasonable) and scones (that don’t really taste like scones, and happen to be called biscuits here.)

There is so much food, even I have trouble understanding how anybody can actually finish everything that’s provided. (I’m able to, but I’ve always been able to eat more than most people.)

“Are you going to tell us why you dragged us on another forsaken roadtrip across this accursed wasteland?” Baz asks Shepard. “And why you insisted we stop at this specific atrocity of a waffle house in the middle of the night?”

Shep pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket, flattening it out before he slaps it on the table. 

“ _THIS_ is why,” he proclaims, pushing it towards Baz. 

Have you been unfairly stereotyped as a “Dark” creature?

Are you tired of feeling like a second class magickal being? 

You’re not alone!

Meeting 1st Tuesday of the Month at E. Front St. Waffle House

Baz picks it up, scanning the flyer Shep gave us, flipping it over in his hand. “And what makes you think they’re meeting here tonight? There’s no time listed.”

“Six months of sorting through rumors on the cryptid message boards and tracking down leads,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee. “I met with goblins in back alleys,” he continues. (I bristle at that. I haven’t been attacked by a goblin in years, but I still can’t tolerate the thought of them near me or my friends.) “Pixies in vacant fields. Even weredactyls on a cliff face.”

“Weredactyls?” On all of the adventures Shep has taken me on, I still have not met a weredactyl. He did introduce me to a Jersey Devil once though. 

“Yeah! It was—” He cuts himself off mid-sentence. His mouth splits into a wide grin. I know exactly what that look means, I’ve seen it countless times. 

Two polecats walk in, making their way directly to a large corner booth in the back. 

Baz pulls out his wand and casts a quick _**“Nothing to see here!”**_

Not long after, a fomorian comes in, followed by a tall specter-looking woman. (A banshee maybe?) Soon enough, the large booth is filled with six creatures.

The whole scene looks like the setup for a bad joke. _Two polecats, a fomorian, and a banshee walk into a diner…_

Baz makes a low growl under his breath, a little surprised that Shep managed to locate some sort of creature support group. 

We continue eating our meal in silence, listening the best we can to the discussion amongst the creatures. 

“My wailing took a toddler a couple of days ago,” the banshee says. She’s slumped in her seat, mindlessly stirring her coffee. “I hate being what I am. I don’t want to hurt anybody anymore.” She’s weeping, but mercifully not wailing. 

One of the creatures I don’t recognise reaches out a hand to pat her on the shoulder. “I get that,” he tells her, “I killed a dog a few weeks ago. Thought it was a stray. Until I started seeing MISSING posters around the neighborhood.”

She looks up at him. “Thank you for sharing that, Grunch.” 

“ _Grunch,_ ” Shepard whispers beside me. “I’ve been looking for him for years. I wasn’t sure he really existed.”

Shep shuffles in his seat, clearly trying to temper his need to engage. 

“Go for it,” I whisper to him. I know he’s dying to introduce himself. It’s the whole reason he brought us here after all. 

“Are you crazy?” Baz hisses at me. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” I ask him, setting down my fork. 

Shepard doesn’t stick around long enough to wait for whatever argument Baz is sure to come up with. He quickly slides out of his seat and makes his way for the assembled group of creatures. 

“ _What’s the worst that can—_ ” Baz looks incredulous. “Do you _not_ remember what happened last time we came in contact with a fomorian and polecat?”

“Oh, I remember. The asshole wouldn’t keep his hands off you,” I grumble at my plate. 

“ _That’s_ the part you remember? Not the part where we almost died?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“But we didn’t!” I remind him. “And! We have Shep to keep us out of trouble now.”

“Out of trouble, or drive us directly into trouble?” he counters. 

“Yeah, sure,” I answer, not fully paying attention. I’m far more interested in listening to Shep and the creatures. 

“Hi! I’m Shepard!” He thrusts his hand out towards the nearest creature—a human-looking bloke with a dog’s head. 

“Is that one _were_?” I ask Baz. I’m not sure if I’ve seen a werewolf with only a dog’s head before.

“Cynocephalus,” Baz says. Somehow I knew he’d know what it was. 

A sudden silence washes over the gathering. I’m watching from our table, ready to move to action if things start to go badly. 

“Where did you come from?” one of the polecats snaps at Shep. 

“Omaha!” he answers ecstatically. “I’ve been trying to find and meet with you for a while.”

“Why?” the fomorian asks suspiciously. 

“I just want to know everything there is about magickal creatures,” he says with a shrug, moving his outstretched hand towards the formorian. 

“ _Why?_ ” the fomorian asks again, drawing the single word out, letting it emphasize his growing suspicion. 

“I just want to learn everything I can about the world.” Shep finally drops his hand. “Not everyone is afraid of what they don’t understand. I’d just like to hear about the problems you have, and help if I can.”

“Crowley,” Baz grumbles, pulling his wand from his pocket, “if we end up needing to make another daring escape, I swear I’m never allowing the two of you to arrange a road trip ever again.”

“Very well, Shepard from Omaha,” the dog-head creature says to him, narrowing his eyes. “Sit. But if we catch even a whiff of anything unsavory, we will tear you apart before you can get a word out.”

“No problem, my man.” Shepard pulls a chair from a nearby table and flips it around. He straddles the back of the chair, leaning into the group like they’re old friends. “Tell me everything.”

I pick my fork back up and stab a sausage off Baz’s plate. (He’s not going to eat it anyway.) Baz may be an uptight worrier, but I trust Shep. If he can win Penny over, I know that he can talk his way into and out of absolutely anything.


End file.
